


Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff

by swwf17



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Originally Posted on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-10-21 08:57:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10681998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swwf17/pseuds/swwf17
Summary: Written for the prompt: ‘In Sickness (and/or in Health)' - a fever, a photojournalist, and feels. Oh my.





	Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff

**Author's Note:**

> This was written before season two aired. ...Ah, good times.

Somewhere in the apartment, something is ringing.

Kara just assumes it’s her ears. They’ve been ringing, on and off, for the better part of three days. By now, she’s learned to tune it out, just as she has tuned out the body aches, chills, and the profoundly unpleasant pressure that seems to have taken up permanent residence in her sinus cavity.  

She attempts a groan but the congestion and phlegm morph it into some sort of unholy sneeze/cough/wheeze amalgamation. Why is the ringing getting _louder?_ And is that…is that _buzzing?_

_Phone_ , she realizes. _It’s your phone._

The phone which sits on the counter in her kitchen, and thus requires a trek that is entirely unappealing to her, as it would require sitting upright. And then moving. And then speaking. Things she does not wish to deal with, presently.

So she rolls onto her side (that’s about as much movement as she can realistically handle right now) and waits for the ringing to stop.

Except that it doesn’t.

The ringing and buzzing continues. And now she’s _annoyed_ on top of everything, and _who would be calling her right—_

Oh, duh.

Alex.

A memory surfaces. Alex had said something about…about coming by to…something? Track some sort of progress? Maybe collect samples? Science. Something to do with science. Science regarding this particular case of Argo Fever she’s somehow managed to contract from the weird space rock they’d been investigating.

She still considers ignoring Alex’s call, but then realizes that Alex stopping by means someone to potentially make chicken noodle soup. Someone who is not her.

So she levers herself into a position that is marginally more vertical than the one she was just in, and slowly stands, giving herself a few extra seconds to make sure she doesn’t fall over.

Confident in her ability to remain standing, if nothing else, she pads slowly to the counter,  and bumps into every piece of furniture between her bed and the kitchen.

But at last— _at last—_ she reaches the annoying device. (Damn the excessive square footage of this apartment. _Damn. It._ ) It takes her three tries to unlock her phone, the numbers blurring and jumping and her hands refusing to cooperate.

“—Hnn? _”_ It’s more of a grunt than a greeting.

“ _Heeey Kara_ ,” Alex’s voice is painfully loud in her ear. Kara frowns and pulls the phone away from her face. “ _How’s it going?”_

“Rrr you comin’ over?” Kara really doesn’t have much patience for pleasantries right now.

“ _Well, I was. Going to come over, I mean._ ” Alex says. Kara says nothing. She maybe starts to fall asleep. Just a little. “ _…Kara?”_

“Hmm?”

“ _I said that there was…I wouldn’t call it an ‘explosion,’ necessarily—”_

“What?” _Now_ Kara’s awake. “Explosion? What ha—”

“ _It’s nothing Kara, really. It didn’t even take out the primary systems. It’s just, uh. It. Sort of trapped us in a sub basement.”_

“…”

“ _So I can’t come over.”_

“…Oh.”

“ _Sorry.”_

“S'not a big deal,” Kara mutters, leaning bodily over the counter. She’s already looking forward to ending this call and crawling back into bed. Yes. Yes, that sounds good. Sure, the prospect of chicken noodle soup had been pleasant but. Alex not being able to stop by and help out isn’t the worst thing to happen.

“ _Well, I still feel bad, you being all alone over there with some sort of weird alien virus.”_ Alex’s voice is…odd. And not just because Kara’s ears are plugged up, making it sound like Alex is underwater. It’s…something else. Odd like…like she’s…guilty? No. Dodgy?

Kara attempts to reassure her. “Oh, well, don’t wo—”

“ _So I called James.”_ Alex blurts.

“…You what?”

“ _He’ll be done around three? And head over there. I told him—”_

“Wait. No. Back up. _What?”_

This. This is the Worst Thing.

“ _I called James, and asked if he could—”_

“Alex, why would you—he can’t come over here!” Kara stands up, and the room spins, so she has to slump back down, head in her hands, eyes trained on the grout lines between the tiles of the counter top. “I’m not—it's—I’m gross! My hair is gross! I’ve sweat through like, every shirt I own!” She’s down to a Midvale High phys ed shirt that she’s honestly surprised she still has. The 'fever’ part of Argo Fever is no joke, as it turns out.

“ _So?”_

Kara can’t begin to explain why this is a Horrible Idea, so instead she just groans into the speaker.

“ _I fail to see the problem here. He’s going to bring food! You can’t tell me you’d turn down a hot meal right now.”_

Kara hates that she has to spell it out, because it sounds so pitiful, and petty, and vain when she says it aloud.

“I don’t want him to see me…like this.” She gestures to her sweat-stained shirt and wrinkled pajama pants, only to belatedly realize this is a phone conversation.

“ _What, sick?”_ Alex snorts. _“Kara, it was bound to happen eventually.”_

“No, it _wasn’t._ ”

“… _Alright, so maybe it wasn’t. Then this…this is a good thing! You’re getting the full human experience, right here. It’s normal. You want normal, right?”_

“Not—”

“ _I’ve got to go, Stevenson’s about to do something stupid. Stevenson!”_

“Wait, Alex, don't—”

“ _Love you, bye!”_

The phone clicks, and Kara seriously considers deleting all of the _Homeland_ episodes Alex has saved on her DVR. But, no, she’s not _that_ mad. Her sister _meant_ well, and it’s not like Kara’s ever been this _sick_ before on Earth, so how would _either_ of them know that she’s _really_ not keen on social visits while deathly ill?

She wonders if she was this difficult during the first go-around of Argo Fever. She was so small when she had it though, she can’t remember. She has a hard time remembering any sickness, back on Krypton. It was far less common, and most cases far milder than anything on this planet.

It occurs to her that she’s wasting precious time, with James bound to arrive in…she blinks. What did Alex say? Gah, she was just on the _phone_ come _on._ Three? Maybe?

She looks at her phone. It’s one forty-three. Plenty of time to shower, and find clothing that _isn’t_ disgusting, and maybe clean up the apartment a little? And—

She starts at the knock on the front door.

_THUMP, THUMP._

Momentary panic sets in, but no. This is way too early, right? Probably just…just FedEx.

“Kara?”

She wants to throw something. At someone. Or maybe hit something. _Hard._ It _is_ James, and he’s crazy early, and she looks like death warmed over.

“Sorry, it's—I know Alex told you three—well I _hope_ Alex told you three—but I’m on lunch break and figured I’d just stop by now and…Kara?” He sounds concerned, so she can’t very well leave him out there, wondering and worrying.

She tugs on a sweatshirt, mentally recoiling as the fabric traps the heat against her already too-warm skin, and hunts for a hair tie. She finds a rubber band, which she vaguely recalls is actually really bad for your hair, but. Desperate times. (Also, would it even _affect_ her hair? Kryptonian cells, and all that.)  

“Kara, you okay in—” she opens the door, cutting him off. “Oh, hey!”

“…Hey,” she waves weakly and tries very hard not to fidget self-consciously.

James does not immediately recoil in disgust, so that’s…something. At least. He just grins amiably and heads towards the kitchen, depositing two plastic bags on the counter.

Kara, meanwhile, is trying to figure out if there’s a discreet, subtle way to check if one’s shirt reeks of sweat.

“Got some sort of Kryptonian flu, huh?” James asks. He points towards the cupboards and inclines his head, silently asking permission to grab plates, glasses, and whatever else is needed for the impromptu meal. Kara runs a hand through her greasy hair and nods.

“Go ahead,” she tells him. He begins rifling through the drawers, and Kara sniffs at her sweatshirt sleeve. “Kind of a flu. Fever, mostly. If we’re being technical.” She can’t smell anything, but then, she can’t really breathe through her nose, so…

“Oh, we definitely want to be technical. Your sister was very clear about that. I’m running point while she’s stuck at the DEO. I think she said something about monitoring mucus levels?”

Kara’s head snaps up in sheer mortification.

“I—she…what?”

“I’m joking, Kara.”

“…Ha?” she weakly wanders over to the couch and sits; she _has_ just suffered a minor heart attack, after all.

“I’m just here to provide food, promise.” He shovels a pile of takeout onto what is presumably Kara’s plate, given the size of the portions, and makes his way to the coffee table. “That, and make sure you don’t pass out before Alex can come and take over.”

“Mmmph.” Kara’s rapidly fading—she’s tired enough now that she honestly doesn’t care _what_ James thinks. Mostly.

“Here. Chow Hong’s. Your favorite.”

And it is, and it’s really thoughtful of him, and the idea of food had been _great_ up until five seconds ago. Now, the smell is making her nauseous.

She declines the offer as politely as she can. “Thanks, but…I’m good, actually.”

James is visibly taken aback.

“…You really _are_ sick.”

“…Yeah.”

Whatever force that’s been keeping her upright finally gives out. Kara slumps sideways on the couch, and groans into the nearest throw pillow.

James backtracks and puts the food in the fridge, wisely sensing that, should it remain near the incapacitated Kryptonian, there might be some unpleasant results. Most likely of the 'upchuck’ variety.

“Okay, so food’s a no-go,” he states. “What about water? Water’s good, right? Staying hydrated?”

Kara presses her face further into the pillow. Sound physically _hurts._ As does light. And just about everything else.

Distantly, she can hear the sink running, and one of the kitchen cupboards open and shut. Kara tilts her head just enough to see James place a glass of water on the table, and she nearly jumps out of her skin when a cool cloth is applied to the back of her neck. She hisses sharply.

“Sorry, sorry,” James says quietly, pulling the cloth away. “I didn't—sorry. I’ll just—”

Kara shakes her head, and wishes she hadn’t, the pressure around her eyes almost _unbearably_ painful. “No, it’s…it’s good,” she says through gritted teeth. James carefully puts it back, and Kara hopes that her incoherent mumbling sounds grateful. Because she is. Truly.

“ _Geez,_ Kara,” James mutters. “You’re warm. Like. _Hospital_ warm. You sure you wanna be wearing that sweatshirt?”

Kara mentally makes a list of pros and cons, re: movement.

“’M fine.”

“I’m gonna call Alex,” James says. Kara nods. Or maybe she just imagines that she nods. She doesn’t know, it’s hard to keep her eyes open and her mind focused on anything _other_ than staying as still as possible.

She tries to listen to what James tells Alex over the phone, but his voice becomes an indistinct rumble, and she must fall asleep, because she dreams of a yellow sky over Krypton. Or maybe National City at sunset…sometimes, if she looks out at the silhouetted buildings against the fleeting light, she can almost pretend they’re the towering spires of Argo, the distant brown hills that flank the coast the Kandorian Straits.

Well, wherever it is, it’s hot. Unbearably so.

And that’s when Kara decides it _has_ to be Krypton, she only ever felt heat like that in the days leading up to the destruction, the fire falls to the east pulsing white hot and the bedrock beneath the city boiling like water—

She sits bolt upright, breathing deeply as she shakes off the nightmarish images.

“Whoa, hey,” James is there in an instant, hovering at the edge of her personal space, unsure if he should come any closer.

She nods and scoots over, making room for him on the couch. He sits, and she notices several things at once:

**One,** moving is no longer a herculean effort. Great!

**Two,** both her shirt _and_ sweatshirt stick to her like a second skin, damp with perspiration. Less great.

**Three,** James is still _here_ , and not at work, and Kara doesn’t know what time it is. Great, but also not?

**Four** , he’s sitting right next to her, gently tucking her sweaty hair behind her ear, and it’s really sweet, actually…

But **Five** , see item **two**.

“Ugh.” She leans forward and places her head in her hands.

“Uh, you okay? Should…should I grab a bucket, or—”

“NO, _no,”_ Kara exclaims, hurrying to straighten up. “I'm—I’m good. Better. Than I was…an hour ago?” She squints at the skyline outside, trying to gauge the time.

“Try three,” James chuckles.

Kara’s eyes go comically wide. “ _Three?!_ James, you…what about work? Cat’s gonna _kill_ you, and then me, because I _kept_ you from working, and then…and then…I don’t know what, but it’ll ultimately end up in a stock market crash.”

“I think Cat’s getting to you,” James teases her and she frowns, still distressed that James spent _all afternoon_ here, while she just slept. (And probably snored, if Alex is to be believed.) “No one’s gonna die. See, unlike _some_ people,” he casts a meaningful glance in her direction, “I’m not forced to use up all my sick days and vacation time to take off and save the world, so…” he shrugs. “No harm done.”

Kara takes in his words, and her heart rate gradually slows. She nods absently, though her eyes narrow as she really thinks about it.

“So…Cat was _fine_ with it.” That…doesn’t sound quite right.

James scratches the back of his neck. “…Yeah.”

“Don’t lie to me, James Olsen.”

“…She was mostly fine with it.” Kara groans and throws her head back against the couch cushion. “Alright, she was only fine with it when I told her that I was potentially contaminated with a nasty virus.”

“Humans can’t catch Argo Fever,” Kara mumbles, still staring at the ceiling.

“Well. Cat doesn’t need to know that.”

The two sit in silence for a moment, and then Kara finally says, “thank you. For lying to Cat. And staying here. You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to,” James tells her, taking her hand and running his thumb over the back of her knuckles. She tries not to fixate on how clammy her palms are and just enjoy the feeling of her hand in his. “Not often one of us regular humans gets to save the Girl of Steel.”

“Well I wouldn’t say _save_ ,” Kara smirks, nudging him with her shoulder, careful to temper her strength. “Assist, maybe. Which you guys do. _All_ the time.” James places a hand on his chest and feigns offense.

“ _Excuse_ me, I brought Chinese food, that ranks right up there with saving snakes stuck in trees.”

“Mmm, fair point.” Kara allows. “ _Speaking_ of…”

“Someone’s feeling better.”

“ _Yes._ So. Potstickers?”

“You know it.”


End file.
